It was called the Last War as a warning.
For a hundred years, ever since the rite of succession in the Five Kingdoms was ignored and a thousand years of relative peace came to an end, the continent of Khorvaire has been seized by war. Desperation pushed the limits of magic to destructive heights undreamed of, birthing a new race of animate constructs, delivering new modes of flying transport, and culminating in an unclaimed act of magical terrorism, wiping the nation of Cyre off the face of the continent.
Sick and weary of war, two years ago the Treaty of Thronehold was signed, putting an end to the Last War, with the best of intentions of ensuring it was the Last War - because another, on the scale witnessed, could end all life on the world of Eberron. The magical constructs called the warforged have been granted personhood, and struggle to adapt to a world without war - as does everyone else. With a hundred years of grudges across national lines, with everyone knowing someone who died or suffered in the war, there are a lot of people in Khorvaire not willing to let bygones be bygones.
Those are just the threats within the Five Nations. The emissaries from Sarlona are eagerly stepping in to help with refugees and shortages, but nothing comes without a price. The lost continent of Xen'drix is opening to exploration, and could contain anything - including nothing more than a sad repeat of the history of colonialism against its drow natives. There are stirrings of activity within the Cult of the Dragon Below, their long-term insane goal being the revival of the dread wyrm Tiamat - and the dragons of Argonessen are thought to be taking an unusual interest in the affairs in Khorvaire. There are tales of a warforged god building a nation in the ruins of Cyre, and the Dragonmarked houses - centers of magical trade, and relatively unscathed by war - are up to something.
To hold the world together may be an impossible task.
But to some of the exceptional people emerging worldwide, only nothing is impossible.
What's the game? A superhero game set in Eberron.
Why Eberron? Eberron is a setting for Dungeons and Dragons that advances the general feel and timeline of the "fantasy consensus universe" from medieval Ye Olden Times to the stories of the post-World War 1 pulp era. Less Bilbo Baggins and more Indiana Jones.
In the consciousness of Western society, the pulp heroes gave way to the superheroes in the late 1930s and early 1940's. This is a game about Eberron making that transition.
Why superheroes? They're awesome, and I feel that a pulp fantasy universe allows for fresh possibilities with the genre, either taking fantasy archtypes up to the level of superheroics, or lending superheroic archtypes a fresh perspective within Eberron's borders.
Where in Eberron is this set? Initially, Khorvaire. Not to say that you have to come from there, but that you have to wind up there by the time the team is ready to form.
What's this about a team? One of the unusual things I want to do with this game is that I want to run it comics-universe style - as in, every character initially has a solo thread where you have your own adventure, then you get together with the team in a group thread, then we have both your solo thread and your group thread going simultaneously. Like how members of the Justice League or the Avengers have their solo books and then the team book - or if movies are your frame of reference, how we get Captain America or Superman movies in between Avengers and Justice League films.
So how will that work? Like this.
Solo threads: origin story for you
Then team thread: the team comes together for its first big adventure.
Then solo threads and team thread running in parallel: or close to parallel, with perhaps a month or two off in between. Future story ideas may be seeded in group threads and followed through in solo threads, or vice versa. If something life-changing happens in one thread, we assume that the other thread took place before that.
That's a little unusual. It is! But play-by-post gives us an ideal place to pursue it, since the slower pace means more attention can be focused on the individual members.
Also, if you don't want a solo thread, you don't have to have one past your introduction, so if you think it's a bad idea, it won't directly affect you. If you don't want to be in the group thread, that's also something I can accomodate.
What system are you using? Depends on the feedback I get. I'm weighing either FATE Accelerated, with some superhero specific tweaks, or Mutants and Masterminds 3rd Edition, also with some tweaks.
What style or tone of play are you looking for? Akin to the DC Animated Universe of the 90's and 00's, or the better Marvel movies. Realistic on an emotional level - as in "this crazy thing that happened is crazy" - but not necessarily on a physics level ("what tensile strength is required for Big Crazy Thing to be real?") and with the social impact level limited so that it doesn't get in the way of the genre. Essentially, the core truth of the game's tone is that it's a world with superheroes and that needs superheroes.
How many people are you looking for? About five to six to start with.
I am interested! That's great!
I'm not interested! Okay.
I have questions! Ask them below.

Date: Olarune the 6th, 998YK
Location: Off the coast of Sharn
Dawn broke over the bow of the good ship Springtime Belladonna, and Isstia knew this by the faint tingle of irritation that the sunlight gave her, even down in the cargo hold.
She had completed her exercise and training for the moment and was resting, keeping her breathing quiet enough that nothing short of a hound would hear it – and the Springtime Belladonna kept a ship’s cat instead, to deal with rats. The cat never hissed at her, but it never stuck around long enough for Isstia to get to know it well either. It, and Soluzek, were the only two faces she’d seen on her journey.
The secret knock at the wooden panels was given, and Soluzek herself made her way into the small stretch of the cargo hold that Isstia had carved out. The female elf wasn’t like her – Soluzek’s skin was pale and a little freckled, and her hair was red with black streaks. She had strange gods – something called the Undying Court – but she had recognized in Isstia a kindred spirit, and had kept her hidden and helped her on her quest.
Soluzek sat crosslegged on the floor. She pulled out a small package of jerky. “Here. It’s your favorite. I was saving it for today; it’s the big day. We’re going to be docking at Sharn by the end of the day.”
Isstia knew little of Sharn; she knew that it fed ships to and from Stormreach, the city of the pale strangers, and she knew that it was where her quarry had travelled. But what Soluzek had told her still seemed fantastical – buildings the size of small mountains, flying skiffs, people of all races pressed together. All roads led to Sharn, the saying went.
Including the roads travelled by the killers of her tribe, and the thieves of the holy totem of Vulkoor.

I've been putting off this post for a while now, but I can't really any more.
For a while now, the fun of running JLE has gone out of the game for me, and I kept going in the hopes that it would return. But it hasn't, and after some consideration, I've decided to shutter the game. I considered putting it on hold, but honestly: the chance of a game that's gone on hold coming back is so small it seems wrong to hold out false promise.
I'm glad for the times we've had, and I'm sorry that we won't be having more of them for the foreseeable future. I especially have to apologize to KahlessNestor, who came over to this site from another one and who sadly hasn't seen the other side of their intro thread.
I may run something else and I may not, but I'm glad for everyone who took a chance on my weird idea for a game and stuck around. Thanks again.

Time: Early Therendor, 998 YK (the month following Olarune)
Places: Karrnath, Breland
Steel Falcon
"Thanks for meeting me on such short notice... 'Steel Falcon.'" Ezi smiled a bit at the name. "No, no, I'm not making fun! I like it."
He hung up his coat at the rack that Lysa kept at the door to her quarters, then took off his hat. "So I have a lead. It's in Karrnath, and I understand if you don't want to leave the country with your legal status all - " He tilted his hand back and forth, then he took a deep breath.
"It's about your father. I went off the descriptions of the other people you said were meeting with him and I may have something. One of them fits the description of one Benjamin Droth, a functionary who was caught with his pants down and that blunted his political fortunes, which is how the paper's Karrnath office found him. He is confirmed to still be alive as of the Day of Mourning, so I don't think he was in Cyre.
"The thing is, ever since that incident he was rumored - nothing printable, but he was rumored to be mixed up with some more radical elements. He might have a connection to the Order of the Emerald Claw, the disgraced shock troopers and knights of the nation - since they were disowned and went into hiding they've become radicalized too. They're dangerous news, even for someone who fought Xander Troy's prototype warsuit and won. But it's the best lead to finding more about your father that I've found."
Tobias
Tobias told himself that nothing good was ever easy, and it helped as he and the priests and priestesses worked to establish the Silver Hearth.
Korth was an ideal place to start, close to the border as it was and the capital of the nation. But it had taken extensive negotiation to even get a foothold, and even then, it was the Low District. Tobias didn't mind - the Low District was where help was needed most - but it did rankle some of the others.
Currently he was using his powers to cure several particularly nasty cases of maggot fever, a disease that often affected the sick of Karrnath - the infestation taking root in the stomach and making it impossible for victims to keep any food down, letting them slowly starve in anticipation of the maggots' next meal. But the maggots were cleansed by the Silver Flame, and they were day in and day out the mightiest army Tobias had faced.
As he tended to the victims of each in turn, one of the priests entered - a young half-elf man named Melv, who was steadfastly faithful but who tended to drink too much. He surveyed those Tobias was tending too, and shook his head.
"Horrible. It's spread by bread that's been on the shelf too long. I wish they didn't eat it - no, I wish they didn't have to eat it. But I can't blame them."
Faz
Faz stepped off the platform of the lightning rail, the air still thick with the lightning elemental's discharge. He watched as other passengers fought to keep themselves from being stung by static lightning.
Dr. K stepped out behind him, muttering as he adjusted his collar. "I swear that the damn elementals do that on purpose. Yes, I'm aware that they're little more than roaring bundles of instinct when bound to these things, let a man be mad at something. All right, let's see..."
The doctor toted his bags further away from the platform. "Faz, do keep an eye out for pickpockets? I would rather not lose my identification papers while stranded in a strange land where they probably still collect corpses for the army. Now, ah yes, here we go."
Dr. K unfolded a piece of paper that had a carefully illustrated picture of a halfling, dressed in leaves and bark, with a seed replacing one eye and an expression that spoke of the lack of mirth one found on a halfling's face only when House Jorasco informed you your coin purse was empty. "Well, he won't be hard to find. Where to?"

Isstia was distracted by the unfamiliar scents and smells of the restaurant/tavern, so she was taken completely by surprise when a voice spoke to her from a few feet behind her.
"You're drow. How interesting. You're a long way from where you belong, aren't you?"
The voice was a woman's, and it had the particular inflections of an elf... and Isstia knew, deep down, that she'd found her half-drow, and that the woman had the drop on her.

"I've no idea if that's a safe house, or a place with a safe. But I do know the location." Ebeneezer tapped the map with a fingernail. "We can be there within the hour. Unless any of you have other business to wrap up?"

"Well, complainin' with me on your back might have ended in me gettin' dropped. THere's laws against cab drivers doin' that." Penda went inside to grab drinks at the bar, while Isstia followed.
The restaurant-slash-tavern was at partial capacity, so Isstia didn't have much trouble blending in as long as she stuck to the shadows. She scanned the room, looking for signs of her target.

"Let's take to the rooftops," says Ebeneezer. "They never check up there. There's a particularly nice gargoyle up that-a-way - not an actual gargoyle, mind, this isn't that part of the city."
The group regrouped, atop the building, far enough up that the drop in teperature was felt more acutely by those who still felt the touch of winter. Up there, Ebeneezer opened the lockbox.
Inside was a collection of notes that seemed to do with artifice, something to do with a "Ruby Ray," some kind of pocket-sized magical device - though deciphering further would take some effort - and equally important, there was a map with a location inside the city circled. Scrawled on it was one note: "safe."

Penda nodded, and in a few minutes' time, a sky card was hailed.
As it ascended, Penda gripped nervously, white-knuckled, onto the seat.
"Nervous?" asked the cabbie.
"Yeah."
"First time?"
"Naw, I been nervous lots'a times."
Twenty minutes later, the two of them disembarked, Penda paying the cabbie. They walked down the streets towards the Grey Dragon. "So what's the plan, you going to stake the place out?" asked Penda.

There was a thickening of the air, a cloud of mist that reformed into the vampiric form of Ebeneezer. He coughed, self-consciously.
"Possibly may not have had a choice. A lot of people returned from the Last War missing parts of themselves, irreplacable by magic for whatever reason. He may have felt it beat not having an arm at all.
"Now - " Ebeneezer waved towards the fleeing Eagle Claw. "They're going to come back with reinforcements. Perhaps we should vacate the premises?"

"Worthyworthyworthyyyyyy..."
The half-man, half-warforged slurred down and fell into unconsciousness at the impact of Faz' fist. The remaining pilot in the telekinetic bubble took one look at this, and started to flee the scene of the battle.

"That I do," said Penda. "It's up near the top. You wanna climb with me on your back the whole way or should I order up a skycart, heretical magic that it is? Bearin' in mind it's a long way down, an' you might wanna not be tired by the time you get up there."

"One person, specifically. A half-breed like - "
Silvertooth paused, as Penda leaned over the bed. "Like what?"
"... like such a fine person such as yourself. She's a half-elf named Beryl Syn. She's a frequent patron of the Grey Dragon. And - there are rumors that when they say she's a half elf, they mean half one kind of elf..."
He waved towards Isstia.
"...and half your kind of elf. Which, I am given to understand, is fairly rare, and may make this a family affair of yours, no?"

Even though the shock of getting skinned by another bolt, Tobias' aim was true. Alpha steered straight into the jet of flame, and the instruments immediately fused; the telekinetic bubble collapsed, and the Eagle Claw fell to the ground, the pilot frantically trying to right the ship.
The second one continued to concentrate on Tobias, but Tobias could tell that he was beginning to lose his nerve...
Barricade's artificial arm reconfigured into a nasty looking drill, as he attempted to gore Lysa on it. But it refused to spin up, and Barricade stuttered out a curse of frustration. "W-w-work, you - work, y-y-you - working - work-ki-ing - "
And the Terror Claws were either down or fled, so they didn't have a say in the proceedings.

All failures; three Terror Claws are taken out. The fourth one freaks out and runs, so he's out of the fight unless someone decided to chase him.
There was a mighty swing, and three soldiers of the Emerald Claw went flying. The fourth watched them go, took one look at Faz, and decided that years of radicalization and training mean jack spit in the face of a giant ogre that could sneeze a human in half. He ran.

"Ah. Them. All right." The shifter looked at the ceiling, lost in thought.
"All right, so: introductions. I'm known as Silvertooth - " He grinned, showing why, as several of his teeth were replaced with silver fillings. "And I am a middleman for artifacts from Xen'Drix. I match up buyers with sellers, and vice versa.
"My job means I try not to ask too many questions about where they come from, but I have one hard rule: no magic. What happened was that I found out that a buyer that I'd been coordinating with through a third party was circumventing that rule by assembling artifacts that had little to no innate magical power on their own, but that combined, could be a different story. Besides being illegal... well. There are things on Xen'Drik you don't want mad at you. Such as - " He gestured vaguely towards Isstia.
"They caught wind that I was thinking of going to the Sharn city guard - I wasn't, but the rumor was enough for them to try and do me in. My name is mud in the grey market antiquities world now and the second I get out of this bed I am heading out of this rathole of a city. Xen'drik's not worth the trouble. Your people can keep it."

Steel Falcon dropped on Barricade with the force of a small keg of alchemist's fire, and Barricade raised his metal arm. The impact shook through the street, rattling windows and shaking dust loose...
... and Barricade was unharmed, locked in melee combat with Lysa. He was still on the ropes, but not down yet.

The telekinetic attack bubble was wreathed in more flames, and now the apparatus that held it all together was starting to smoke visibly.
"B! This one's trouble! I need backup!" shouted the pilot. Reluctantly, the second pilot swung its bolter back around, and they fired in unison at Tobias.
Downstairs, the Terror Claws chose to panic - one of them, anyways, diving under a table in fear. The other three took their swipes at Faz.
Finally, Barricade yelled in frustration, sounding like a phonograph skipping in place. His arm reconfigured into a bolter, firing a shot at the Steel Falcon...

"Yeah, you do. This city ain't nomadic - it's where it is 'cause it's located on a manifest zone, which is how they build the towers so tall an' have sky carriages in the first place. So we live differently. Not better - just differently. The world's a huge place an' you'll see a lot of places even weirder'n Sharn."
At a signalling from one of the Jorasco halflings, the two of them were informed that the shifter was taking visitors. After Penda settled up the tab, they proceeded.
The wounds had mostly closed, leaving nasty looking scars, and the shifter was still weak, but conscious. He rolled his head to look at Isstia. "I understand I have you to thank, for me being alive."

"I suppose you wouldn't know about this, but there was a war recently. It was so huge, everyone called it the Last War as a warnin'. Everyone had a part in it, even if they didn't fight. We all gave some, an' some gave all. That's why you see so many sick in there.
"Those people in there, a lot of them can be treated by the halflings, and their Mark of Healing - an' the fact that many halflings have that mark is how they contribute. But even if that wasn't so, abandonin' them - after they have given so much of what they got to give - is wrong. It's wrong. They may not be ready to fight, but in Breland - in Khorvaire, period - you don't have to fight to have value. You can work in a clinic like this. You can open a tavern. You can operate one of the sky coaches that let people around here fly between the towers.
"And even if you can't do that, or any of a hundred other things? They would be worth the effort, if for no other reason than because having them around to remind us - forcefully, if necessary - of the cost of war helps make sure we think twice before getting in another one. And that goes for everyone. Even if you never fought and came by being lame of leg some other way, you still are important. People matter - to me, anyways.
"It ain't a universal ideal, as you probably figured out, or else we wouldn't be at this building right now. But enough people believe in it, that this buildin' is here in the first place."

Faz-as-an-ogre swung a mighty fist, sending two of them flying, one all the way down the bar, drinks dunking on him as he went.
The other four looked as one to their flying comrades, then looked as one to the one that sent them flying.
"Okay," said one of them. "This could be bad."